unknown cruelty
by LoreLorelei
Summary: I always knew he was cruel. You get to know someone's character if you grow up with them. In the case of my brother Raoul, it has been obvious since his early childhood when he enjoyed to torture small animals. It has only become worse over the years. But to be honest: I never realised just how cruel he could be until she came into my life. My angelic Christine...
1. Chapter one

I always knew he was cruel. You get to know someone's character if you grow up with them. In the case of my brother, it has been obvious since his early childhood when he enjoyed to torture small animals. It has only become worse over the years. The chances of him not becoming cruel were small to say the least. He ought to thank our mother for that. If it hadn't been for our father, I would have never known his cruelty, or anyone's cruelty to be precise. When I was given to my mother after my birth, I was not what she had been dreaming of. In fact, she screamed and dropped me: it was a miracle that I survived, though I used to think that surviving was the most horrible thing that could happen to me. All of that changed on the moment I got to know _her_. But let's get back to what I was saying. My father decided that they would keep me, even when my mother pleaded to have me killed. That was probably the most merciful thing she could have done for me in my entire life. He did not allow me to live because he loved me. Oh no! He could rival my brother in cruelty. He allowed it for one reason only: my mother had been trying to give him an heir to his title for more than ten years, and until I came, had failed miserably. The chances that there would be a second child were almost non-existing and since it was absolutely impossible to have a bastard inherit the domain, I grew up as the recognised son of my parents. My brother Raoul was born after I reached the age of 6, and that was the moment when my parents truly started to hate me and didn't try to hide it anymore.

Raoul grew up with loving parents who told him every day of his life that he should have been the one to inherit everything and that my existence was a cruel joke made by fate. From the moment he could walk, he tried to make my life as unpleasant as possible. He was never punished or reprimanded. I could see how disappointed they were by the fact that I kept on breathing, never once becoming ill or having an accident. I used to try to make it up to them by excelling in every art that could be learned: fighting, horseback riding, archery, drawing, painting, architecture and most importantly: music. I think that the only time when my parents were able to stand me was while I was playing the violin or the piano. Of course, their affection would disappear as soon as the music stopped, but I lived for those moments and I fought for every single shred of affection that I was able to get. My instruments were also one of the only things that remained safe from my brother's hands. He knew how expensive they were and destroying them would mean destroying something "that was supposed to be his". But my true gift of God was my voice. I know that it is able to make the angels weep. _She_ was the one who helped me to reach this conclusion. Nevertheless, I never sang for my parents or my brother, the were not worth it.

After my father died, mother became even more spiteful and I was grateful that she did not live much longer. However, the disadvantage was unfortunate. I was left alone in one house with my brother and you can only try to avoid each other for so long (but try I did). I usually just leave him be and make sure that he has enough of money so he will not bother me. One day, he bought a magnificent white stallion. I found the poor animal bleeding severely while he was still using the whip on it's already bloody back. That was the first time that I hit him, though there would be more to follow in the future. Apparently, César, that is how I named him, did not allow Raoul to ride him, something I can absolutely not blame him for, and Raoul unleashed all of his wrath and cruelty upon the poor creature. After I hit Raoul, I paid him the amount of money back which he had spent to buy the horse, and started to heal what would later become my best friend. I have enjoyed the look of envy on Raoul's face for years and I know that he has tried several times to ride César again, only to come back with a dissatisfied look on his face and a few very noticeable bruises. I am the only one who is César allows upon his back.

But you, dear listener, still don't know why all of this happened to me. It is because of my face. I am not ugly, I am hideous! I am living death! Oh, you don't understand? Think of a skull that is able to talk and eat and drink with eyes that shine like yellow flames in the darkness of the night. And my body? Little more that a loathsome skeleton! Yes, Living Corpse indeed…

**Author notes: I do not own anything. All credits to Gaston Leroux. Also: this is my first fic, so I hope you will not be to harsh and English is not my native language. I would appreciate it immensely if you will tell me when you see some mistakes. Thank you very much and enjoy the story! **


	2. Chapter two

Unknown cruelty chapter 2

**My sweet, dear readers: I am truly sorry that I made you wait for such a long time before updating, but I had no time to do so during my exams, which I passed by the way. I am especially sorry for those of you who were so kind as to review my story. I promise to try my best to update a lot sooner now and to apologise, I have made this chapter a lot longer than the first one. I hope you all enjoy it!**

**P.S.: I don't own anything.**

**Now onwards! **

Christine's POV

I was staring at the closed door before me and had been doing so for several long minutes. It seemed as if it was looming over me. I lifted my hand to knock, but dropped it again and sighed deeply. I asked myself why I was there, had I become this desperate? _Yes you have. What are your other options? It's not as if you have not tried everything else. _I sighed again and stopped struggling with my thoughts. I was desperate, I had eaten almost nothing in the last days and had lost even more weight. If I continued like this, I would resemble a skeleton soon. My papa would not have wanted me to starve and he always told me to be strong.

Everything that could go wrong, had gone wrong. I used the last money that we had earned by playing music in taverns and on the street to give him a decent burial. After that, there was no money left and I started to visit every wealthy household in hopes of finding a job as a maid, but I was turned away every time. I had never thought that I would get so many doors slammed in my face. However, the last household had been different: the housekeeper was friendly and even though she explained to me that there was no place for me, she gave me the address of this grand manor. It came with a warning about the rumours that surrounded the place.

The cruelty of the Comte de Prisracque and the fact that no one had ever actually seen him were a frequent subject of the silent whispering among the inhabitants of his comté. This was my last hope, I had delayed coming here until I no longer had any other options. I had no idea what I would do if they turned me away. Now that my papa was gone, I had no one to protect me from the harsh cruelties of the world and I was too proud to beg. Furthermore, I would rather die than become a prostitute.

I sighed, mustered all the courage that remained and finally knocked on the door. I listened desperately for the sound of approaching footsteps and, after hearing none, prepared myself to knock a second time, when the door opened so suddenly that I stumbled backwards. In the door opening stood a tall woman with a severe air, completely dressed in black. She stared at me, not saying anything, which made me feel as if I was much smaller.

"B-Bonjour Madame," I said, "j'aimerais savoir si c'est possible pour moi de travailler dans votre ménage, s'il-vous-plaît. Je ferai tous et je suis bosseuse.1" I looked at her with a hopeful expression on my face, that was crushed as soon as I saw her emotionless face. "S'il-vous-plaît," I whispered, my hands fidgeting.

"Je suis désolée, mais ce n'est pas possible, car…2", she started, but then she suddenly stopped and tilted her head ever so slightly, her eyes leaving my face, as if she was listening to something that only she could hear. Afterwards, she nodded her head once. Her eyes returned to my face and after studying me for a few more minutes that felt like ages, she finally spoke again, be it with resignation: "Very well then, if you would follow me…" She turned her back at me, strode away, never once looking if I was following.

I don't know what was more present, confusion or a feeling of relieved happiness. After a few moments of standing there, completely dumbfounded, I rushed to follow her retreating form. The door was closed with a slam and I jumped as it resounded in the enormous hall. It seemed to me as if there could not have been a more beautiful place in the world. The hall was decorated with elegant crystal chandeliers that I loved immediately, but I reminded myself that that love would be short-lived and that it would vanish as soon as I would have to clean them for the first time. After walking for a while, I had the illusion that the manor was endless, the rooms seeming even larger by the use of strategically placed mirrors. Eventually, we finally reached the kitchens, where she turned to me.

"While you work here, you may address me as Madame Giry. You will now get the chance to eat something and then Meg will show you to your room. Once you are there, you will take a much needed bath and receive your uniform. I will inform you of your duties early in the morning. Don't be late." She turned her back to me once again and left me in the enormous and (to my delight) very warm kitchen. My cheeks were red with embarrassment after her remark about the bath.

As soon as she left, a blushing, round, red-headed woman rushed towards me and enveloped me in a strong hug. "Don't be afraid now, dearie! She ain't as bad as she looks. I am Clémaine, the cook of this place. Now don't keep standing there! Come sit by the fire and I'll get you some hot stew and fresh bread. We need to get some flesh on those bones, we do. There you go sweetheart!"

For the first time in months, I felt a real smile tugging at my face. Maybe this whole arrangement would turn out even better than I had hoped. I was seated at a small wooden table next to the fire and it did not take long before Clémaine returned with a large bowl filled with steaming stew and a large chunk of the softest bread that I had eaten in my whole life.

"Well dearie," she said after putting the bowl in front of me and placing her hands on her hips, "don't let it go cold. There is a lot more if you want. What's your name, darling?"

Between several bites I answered "Christine. This is the best stew that I have eaten in my whole life."

At this she laughed heartily, her blue eyes sparkling with mirth. "If you say so my dear! And that's a very beautiful name, dear. One of my sisters had the same name. Died as a baby though, the poor thing, but let's not talk about that now, heh. How old are you?"

"I'm seventeen, but I'll turn eighteen next winter."

She studied me with an open expression on her face and said that she had thought that I was a lot younger, but that it was nothing that a few extra pounds couldn't cure and asked if I wanted another bowl with stew. However, I turned her offer down and explained that I wasn't used to eating a lot anymore.

"Well, I will certainly change that before the month is out", she stated and left me after giving me a motherly squeeze in the shoulder.

With my stomach filled and the heath of the fire warming my thin body, I soon started to nod off, only to be awakened by the most energetic person I had ever seen.

"Hello! I am Meg and Maman asked me, well actually ordered me, to get you and show you your room and I already have a bath prepared and I am so happy to meet you and we will be great friends and perhaps we will work together and that would be great and I hope Maman didn't scare you and are you ready to go? What's your name by the way?"

During her speech, my eyes had widened. I had never heard anyone speak so fast in my whole life and her whole demeanour reminded me of a young puppy. She looked like a younger, more spontaneous version of her mother, with shining black hair and warm, sparkling brown eyes. I cleared my throat, "I am Christine and I am ready to go."

"Great!", she all but squealed and bounced away, "Follow me!"

She led me through the maze of corridors and rooms to a small but clean bathroom, where a tub with hot water awaited my arrival. I thought that she would leave me to take my bath, but she remained standing there. I sent her some meaningful looks and hoped that she would understand. "Oh, you, well, ehm, I'll, you know… I'll bring your uniform when you're ready. The soap is over there and I put the towel next to the tub. See you!", and she left with a swirl of her gown. I took off my tattered and filthy dress and sank into the hot water. I never wanted to come out again. Seconds later I was scrubbing every inch of my body with the sweet smelling soap. Nothing excels the feeling of being able to wash your hair when it's been a long time. I soaked for a while and then left the welcoming heat of the water. I dried myself of with the towel and waited for Meg to return.

When she did, she was not carrying my uniform like I had come to expect, but a long nightshift. "It's already quite late and I thought that you might be tired, so I brought you one of my nightshifts. You can use it until you have some of your own. I put the uniform on the trunk at your bed. Is that okay?"

I nodded and, after I had put on her nightdress, followed her to my room. It was quite small, but to me, it was heaven on earth. It had been so long since there had been a place to call my own.

Once Meg was done explaining to me where everything was, she startled me with a fierce hug and mumbled: "I'll come to wake you tomorrow morning and should there be anything you need, I sleep in the room next door. You know, I am really happy that you are here. It's been so long since there was another girl of my age."

I thanked her and wished her a good night. She closed the door softly and I slid between the sheets of my new bed. Before my eyes closed, I could only think one thing: _I am finally home._

**I hope you enjoyed it! So, what are your thoughts on Christine?**

**With all my love,**

**LoreLorelei**

1 G-good day Madame, I would like to know if it is possible for me to work in your household, please. I would do anything and I am a hard worker.

2 I am sorry, but that is not possible, because…


	3. Chapter three

Unknown cruelty

**Chapter three**

**Hello my dear sweet readers! I'm back, and I brought you a new chapter. Enjoy!**

Erik's POV

I don't know what made me do it. I have absolutely no idea what caused it. All I know is that I couldn't just let her stand there. I was convinced to let Madame Giry handle it, like she always does. We didn't need a new maid, especially not a young one. Had she been older, it would have been different, but she was not. I went to the hall as soon as I heard the knocking, although I kept myself hidden in the shadows that covered the grand staircase. When Madame Giry opened the door, the form of a small, underfed, young girl was revealed. I heard her stammer and I heard the desperation in her voice, the pleading… The first thought that crossed my mind was: _she must have been desperate to come here. _As I was watching her, an until that moment unknown feeling spread through my heart. It was not pity, for I know that felling very well. It had been directed at me for as long as I can remember, along with disgust, hate and fear and I have felt it myself as I saw the caged and maltreated animals at the shah's court. No, It was something else: compassion. And the need to protect her small, shivering form, dressed in rags, from the cold and uncaring cruelty of the world that was no longer a stranger to this blue-eyed child.

Therefore, before Madame Giry could finish her sentence and turn away this lost child, I directed my voice to her ear. I must admit that it was a bit… disappointing that my ventriloquism no longer had the power to startle her, not that she ever showed it, but perhaps it was for the best in this situation.

"Don't. You will let her stay and offer her a place in the household. Make sure she gets a room and washes", I whispered in her ear.

If she was at all surprised by this, she didn't let it show. I swear that woman shows about as much emotions as a rock. One look on her face told me that she would not let this matter rest, oh well, the relief on the girl's face made it all worth it. Even Angélique's pestering could not ruin the rare joy that filled the place where my heart should have been. I watched as she followed Madame Giry through the hall and, when I was sure she was gone, left my place in the shadows and made my way to the kitchen, all the time telling myself that I simply wanted to find out what kind of person I had granted a place in my house. The voice in my head acted as a spoilsport though.

_If that is the real reason, you could just wait and see what Madame Giry has to say. But no, you want to see for yourself. Why does it bother you anyway? It's not as if you will ever talk to her…_

I silenced it and slid into the hidden passageway in the wall. As I neared the kitchen I heard the talking.

"…_this place. Now don't keep standing there! Come sit by the fire and I'll get you some hot stew and fresh bread. We need to get some flesh on those bones, we do. There you go sweetheart!_"

_Ah, apparently she has met Clémaine. _As I listened to their conversation, my suspicions were confirmed: the girl had not seen any decent food in a long time. _Christine. _The name suited her, for the innocence in her big blue eyes spoke volumes. How she had been able to contain it after what she might have gone through, I had no idea, but for some unknown reason, it touched me.

_What the hell are you doing?!_ When Clémaine left and the girl started to nod off, I wanted to cover her tiny body with one of the blankets that lay in a large basket in the corner of the room next to the pile of fire wood, but before I could act upon my outrageous impulse, Giry's daughter entered the room. The surprise on Christine's face as she listened to the waterfall of words was quite amusing and caused one the corners of my mouth to curl upwards ever so slightly before I forced t back downwards. _Bathing time, time to leave._

The fact that I had learned some things about her, did not quell my curiosity. New questions arose and plagued my disturbed mind. Where did she come from? Not from France, there is a slight accent to her voice. Moved as a child? Where is her family? Does she have any family left? Probably not, she wouldn't be here if she did. How long had she wandered around before knocking at my door? Would she be ready with bathing and be brought to her room? What room did Madame Giry give her? What did she think of the house? And of the other servants?

I groaned and set aside the thick Russian tome that I had been trying to read for more than an hour in the safety of my library. I loosened the ties of my mask and started to massage my temples. What had I gotten myself into? I was interrupted by the loud knocking on my door that was impossible to ignore. Fantastic, just what I needed: a lecture by no one else than the unforgiving Madame Giry. As if the day had not been hard enough already. I quickly readjusted my mask and sighed.

"Enter."

She did not storm into the room as I expected, but rather calmly made her way towards me.

"I thought you said you did not have one", she said.

I was too tired to play the game and simply asked: "Did not have what?"

"A heart", she stated.

Trying to hide my surprise, I simply said that I had no idea what she was talking about. Her eyes narrowed and she snorted. She actually snorted! She placed her hands on her hips and I could already tell that I would not get out of it the easy way.

"Of course you do not have one, that's the reason why you took a girl, a CHILD, under your wing even though you have no idea who she is or where she comes from, that's the reason why you gave her a place in this household! You simply cannot bear the thought of sending her out there again and you know it!", she fumed. After calming down a bit, she continued: "It's natural you know, most people have the urge to help others, just not complete strangers and that's where you are different. I entered this household when you were still a child and that's why you will never convince me that you are heartless. I have seen too much prove of one over the years. It's the reason why my Meg is the only young girl around here, after you sent the others away with a new home to go to and a large sum of money."

She sighed, "I do not blame you for what you did today, but I fear that you will have to send her away eventually. You know I'll do what I can to protect her. However, we both know that I cannot keep an eye on her all the time and while it is safe for her to be here now, it won't be when he returns. Just try not to get involved to deeply." She looked at me and waited for an answer.

"I wish I could, but I fear that I am already in too deep," I answered.

She shook her head and a sad expression overtook her features. "It appears you are. I always knew it would happen one day, but I could not help but hope that by then the circumstances would have changed."

Her statement confused me and I was unable to let it pass. At my question what she meant, she simply turned back to the door and before she left and closed it behind her, she told me that I'd find it out soon enough.

I kept staring at the door after her departure. finding distraction was definitely out of the question now. I turned my gaze to the book that I had put aside and made up my mind. A book would not help, but some music could help me find peace. Playing the organ would have helped the most, but that would probably wake up the whole household and it's new inhabitant. If she slept in the quarters where Giry and her daughter lived, she would most definitely be able to hear it. Some violin perhaps? I wondered if she was sleeping well. Her underfed image came to my mind and it made me doubt that any sweet dreams would be hers at night. That simply would not do, now would it? And so I started to play a lullaby. I composed it as I played and it was the epitome of loveliness. While the music made its way to the ears of the girl, I tried to ignore the voice in my head.

_You never wrote a lullaby before, so why are you writing one now?_

**Well, my dear readers, this is where I leave you. I would love to hear your thoughts on this chapter and reviews are very welcome. I hope you all enjoyed it! Until the next chapter and with all my love,**

**LoreLoreley**


	4. Chapter four

**Hello! Here I am once more! I don't own anything (except what I came up with myself), but you all know that of course.**

Christine's POV

When I woke up the next morning, Meg had not yet appeared at my door. Everything around me was registered slowly by my foggy mind and at first, I had no idea where I was. I refused to open my eyes, afraid that the sweet dream that had taken over during the night would disappear. How long had it been since I had dreamed for the last time? Since my father had died? No, even before then, when the disease was claiming his body and soul piece by piece, I had had nightmares. Before he was sick then. Months, months of hellish nightmares. Nightmares of losing him again and again, in different situations. Nightmares of life on the street, of the screaming people, the grabbing hands, the dark shadows, the hunger. But not this night. This night there had only been the music of my father playing the violin by the dancing fire of the heard in our small cottage back in Sweden. I sat on the ground and listened in ecstasy, watching the fast dance of his fingers. It had felt so real! The only thing giving away that it was not was the fact that not even papa could play something that was so incredibly beautiful. Strangely enough, I did not feel disappointed that I had awoken, which I usually did after waking from a nightmare. Even though they were horrible, they gave me a moment with him and I would rather awake screaming from terror or crying from grief than not having the nightmares and never seeing his face or hearing his voice. For a moment, I had also feared that I was back on the street. However, the warmth surrounding me and the soft pillow underneath my head proved me wrong.

The events of the day before entered my mind slowly and I almost felt like crying with relief. No more hunger, no more filth, no more cold. Finally, I convinced myself to open my eyes and I studied my new room. I had been so tired the night before, that I had fallen asleep before I could get a good look at it. It was about ten square metres big and had a high ceiling. The walls were covered with wallpaper with a small, elegant rose motive. The floor, door, closet and vanity were made of a very dark coloured kind of wood. There even was a miniature heard with a basket of wood beside it. My bed was bigger than I was used to, but I suppose that it was still small compared to other beds. It was made of the same wood as the rest of the furniture and was covered with several colourful, thick and soft blankets. Well, that explained the warmth. As my eyes swept over the room, my room, my chest filled with delight. It was then that I noticed the window… and the light.

No no no no no no no! It was no longer morning. Why hadn't Meg woken me up! She promised me! I was late, horribly late. I could hear Madame Giry's voice echoing in my head. I couldn't lose this job, not now! I scrambled out of bed, in my haste tripping over the pile of blankets and hitting the floor with a loud thud. It was then that Meg entered the room, amusement and concern fighting a battle for the reign of her facial expression. Concern won and she rushed towards me to help me up. "Are you alright?! What happened?", she exclaimed. I scrambled to my feet and searched for words. "I need to… I have to… Madame Giry… late…" Fortunately for me, she understood and made me sit on the bed. "It's ok, you don't have to worry: maman said that I had to let you sleep in today. No idea what came over her. God knows she never allowed me to do so. Maybe you could show me your trick, mmh? She said that I should probably let you eat something first and show you around the house, so change your clothes. There is water in the pitcher over there", she said pointing at my vanity and left the room. Just a second later she opened it again, only her head was visible. "I am so excited!", she yelled, grinning from ear to ear, and disappeared again.

I shook my head, washed my face and put on the uniform. I braided my long hair that –oh sweet ecstasy!- was no longer filthy and sticky and looked at myself in the mirror. My face was to thin and it made my eyes appear way too big. The uniform did not fit, even though I had tried to tie it up as tight as possible. For how long had I looked this skinny? I found myself hoping that Clémaine would be right and that I would fatten up quickly, as if the extra layers of flesh could get rid of all the evidence of the past few months and give me a fresh start. I opened the door and Meg welcomed me with a "Finally! You were taking so long! Let's go downstairs!" and skipped through the labyrinth that made up my new home.

Madame Giry was already waiting for me as I entered the kitchen, where Clémaine was bustling around. I could not help but be nervous and looked up at her expectantly. "I realised last night that you need to build up your strength before you will be able work here. Therefore, you will use the rest of this week to gain weight and get acquainted with the house. You will follow Meg around. If you feel up to it, you can help her with her chores. Breakfast is at seven, lunch at one and dinner around half past six. Should you ever feel hungry outside these hours, I am sure that Clémaine will be ready to help you," she said and I could not help to be surprised by it all. Clémaine nodded happily and ushered both me and Meg towards the table. She placed a plate filled to the brim with fried eggs and bacon in front of me and gave me a hump of soft, white bread. After giving me a motherly squeeze in the shoulder, she went back to the stove. "Well," Madame Giry said, "don't let it grow cold or Clémaine will have your head." Was that a smirk? Madame Giry smirking? Somehow it did not fit into the image that I had from her, though she left the kitchen before I could analyse it further. I decided to use my energy for something better and attacked the mouth-watering food on my plate. "Maman likes you, you know. You are lucky. She could not stand most of the former servants," Meg told me. I swallowed my food and asked her how many servants there were. "Not much," she answered me, "There is me, maman, Clémaine, the three gardeners: Monsieur Dubois and his two sons, Jean and Félix and then there is Alain." She sighed dreamily at this and I raised one eyebrow. "Alain?" "Yes, he takes care of the horses and he lets me pet them and… Why are you looking at me like that? Oh no! Is it that clear?", she exclaimed and buried her face in her hands, blushing furiously. I could not help but laugh. "Even a blind man can see it," I answered her truthfully. She groaned and lifted her face from her hands. "What if maman", she started, but I did not give her the chance to finish her sentence. "Don't worry. Either she has not noticed –unbelieving gaze from Meg- or she does not mind. At least that is what I think." "You really think so?", Meg asked and I nodded. She looked at my empty plate and I nodded again. _Time to work. _Actually I did not mind at all and so I followed my new friend to the first room that would be subjected to our cleaning hands.

We entered what I identified as a sitting room, an unbelievably dusty sitting room that is. I looked at the thick layer of dust and a gasp escaped my mouth. "I know", Meg said, her voice tinted with disgust. "How long has it been since this was even remotely clean?", I asked her. I simply could not believe my eyes. I didn't even know a layer of dust could become so thick! "It's been about five years, give or take a few months," Meg answered and she wrinkled her nose. "Five years! No wonder it looks like this. But why?" "The master had the room closed after his parent's death, it used to be their favourite sitting room to receive guests. Maman finally convinced him to let it get cleaned and we're the lucky ones who get to do it." I felt my heart swell with sympathy for the unknown man. I knew how it felt to loose your parents and the mix of pain and joy that accompanied seeing something that reminded me of them. I could understand why he did not want to see this room again. "Did he miss them so much?", I asked Meg softly. She snorted. "As if. As far as I know, he doesn't even want to be their son." "What?!" I did not see that one coming. How could he not love them? "Don't look at so unbelieving. Maman never told me a thing, but I have heard the rumours here. He did not have a lot of luck in his life, still has not. But hey, I don't know anything for sure," she looked around one last time, "Are you ready to do this?" I nodded and stepped inside the room. For a few steps, everything went well, but then I slipped. Once more I fell on the ground with a loud thud and looked at Meg in surprise. "Oh my God! Are you allright?!", she screamed and almost slipped herself when she tried to reach me. That was the last drop. I burst into laughter and started giggling, a few moments later Meg followed. Suddenly, I got an idea and started moving my arms and legs. "What…the hell…are you doing?", Meg asked me, still giggling. She finally controlled her breathing. I looked at her as if she just asked me why you shouldn't put your hand in the fire and said in a mock serious tone "I am making a dust-angel of course." And just like that we started laughing again. She let herself fall next to me. "I guess I'll just have to make one too."

There we lay, a cloud of dust forming around us. My life was getting better indeed…

**So… any thoughts? Reviews are very welcome. I'll try to update asap.**

**Love,**

**LoreLorelei**


	5. Chapter five

**Here we go again! You have FantomPhan33 to thank for this one, otherwise it would have taken me longer to finish this chapter for you.**

Erik's POV

A few weeks had passed since Christine's arrival and I could no longer keep myself away from her any longer. Because of this, I started to watch her and the little Giry, who never left her side, from the shadows and my secret passageways. I had kept myself away from her for three whole weeks, but could not help playing a new lullaby every night. I wrote each of them down and gave them a place of honour on my desk.

It was not my intention to start watching her, but I just happened to pass by the kitchen when I heard Meg and Christine talking. It was quite cold outside, even though it was only the end of October and Clémaine made sure that the fire in the heard was kept burning.

The girls were sitting in front of the fire and Meg was talking about her dislike of the cold and winter. I would have left them to themselves, if Christine had not voiced her protests in a rather… loud… way.

"You can't hate the winter! It is the best season of the year!", she exclaimed.

"_You would not think that if you had lived on the street during winter. You just have to love the freezing toes and fingers…" _the voice in my head stated.

By the looks of it, Meg did not understand Christine's love for that season either and, believe me, she made it quite clear.

"How can you possibly love winter? It's cold and wet and dull and boring! You can't go outside because of the snow, there are no flowers, your nose becomes red and starts running…", Meg stated.

Christine looked at the ground and whispered "It reminds me of home".

Meg looked surprised and opened her mouth several times to say something, only to close it again.

_That's a first… _

After the girl's comment, it was impossible for me to leave. I had wondered about her past for some time now and my curiosity had grown during the weeks of trying to quell it.

After some time, Meg finally spoke again. "I have not asked about your past because I did not want to make you talk about it, but I would love to hear about it." She looked at Christine expectantly and gave her an encouraging smile.

"We lived in Sweden when I was little. The layer of snow would sometimes be so thick that it was impossible to leave our house. My papa would tell me stories of the trolls in the mountains, of the court of their king Dovregubben, of the Maras, of the lindorm that hid itself in the lake Storsjön and of the Älva and their trickery. My mother would laugh and tell the stories from the Bible. I once asked him what the truth was, what he told or what mother told. He just smiled and said that I would discover that on my own."

Christine watched the flames and gave Meg a sad smile before she continued.

"I was six when my mother died. Father could not stand her absence in our home, where it appeared as if she could enter the room any minute, and chose to leave. We travelled from town to town, from country to country. He would earn our living by playing his violin. He still told me stories, but not the ones he had told me before. He would alter them to fit into my mother's belief in God. He would play me "The Resurrection of Lazarus". He had learned to play it for my mother, since it was the story she told the most and she had always looked happy when he played it for her. Every time I see snowflakes dancing in the wind, I recall everything he told me in front of that fire."

I saw how Meg enveloped Christine in a tight hug and agreed that winter might indeed be a nice season.

I started to feel like an intruder and chose to leave them. I immediately went to the library where I would be able to overthink everything that had been said.

When I had closed the door behind me and had sunken into my reading chair, I started to process the information that I had been… given. Now that I knew where she came from, I was able to recognise her accent and I wondered if she still spoke and understood Swedish. I felt my excitement growing at the thought of being able to speak the language once more, but seeing as it might awaken bad memories, it might be better if I let the matter rest… for the moment.

After processing what she had said, I started to analyse how she had looked. She was no longer too skinny, but still had some catching-up to do. Her face was less sharp and the heat of the fire had brought a very becoming blush upon her cheeks. _Stop it._ Her hair had shimmered like golden waves in the light of the flames. _Stop it now._

I rose quickly and decided that I needed a distraction. I went to the cabinet and took out a tattered violin case. When I opened it, I could not help but wince. Such a beautiful instrument, such a shame that it had not been treated well. It was out of tune, adorned with scratches and the bow practically had no horsehair left.

I had bought it from an old woman that owned a pawnshop. I don't know why I wanted to take a closer look when I saw it laying in front of the window, but I did. It had been apparent that, despite the scratches and filth, it was of great value. I had only seen one violin like that one before and the fact that it was here could only mean one thing: it's owner had passed away. That thought filled me sadness, for I had admired the man and he had been the reason I picked up a violin in the first place.

I had been nothing but a child then and he had been kind. I had escaped the watchful eyes of my mother and the taunting of Raoul. My eyes had grown wide when I reached the market of the nearby town and I was childishly excited. At that point I had not yet left the grounds of the manor before and I was overcome by all the sounds, sights and smells. Suddenly, I stumbled over my feet and bumped into a blond haired giant.

"Are you all right, lad?", he had asked with a deep, rumbling voice and an unmistakable accent.

I could only nod my head in response. At that moment, my stomach chose to remind me of its empty state.

The giant had laughed friendly.

"I think I made enough money for today and it is still early, so my little girl will not miss me yet. Would you care for something to eat, lad?"

I had contemplated his offer. The man had seemed to mean well and therefore I agreed. He had taken me to a small inn that was completely deserted. He chose a table in a rather dark corner and waited until the innkeeper came to ask what we wanted to eat. I do not remember what he ordered, but I remember that I only realised that I could not eat it when it was placed before me.

I had felt ashamed, for I had to explain the man why.

"I'm sorry sir, but I can't eat it"

"Well of course not, son! You'll have to take off you mask first seeing as it covers your mouth", he said.

My voice quivered as I answered him. "I can't take it off, I can't. Mother told me to never take it off when there are people near me. She said that they would scream and take me away or die at the sight of my face. I can't take it off! I can't!"

My voice had become hysteric and the man tried to calm me down.

"Easy lad! Keep breathing. I won't make you take your mask off. Calm down, it's all right."

After my breathing had calmed down and I no longer looked as if I was going to make a run for it, he continued.

"Listen son, I will not make you take your mask off, but I would prefer it if you did. First of all, I know you are hungry and secondly, whatever it is that you hide underneath it, it will not make me think less of you. Trust me."

I looked at him with distrust. My mother had not given me any reason to doubt what she had told me, but this man had been friendlier to me than anyone I had met that far. Because of that, I decided to give him a chance.

I undid the ties of my mask and removed it quickly, my eyes never leaving the giant in front of me. He did not yell, nor did he scream. He just sighed and gave me a squeeze in the shoulder.

"I will not lie to you, lad. It is not a pretty sight and I understand why you did not want to take it off. However, that does not mean that you should think the way you do. It's true that it's probably safer for you with the mask on, there are people that would try to use you. Now dig in," he said.

To say that I was not surprised would be a lie, but I took his advice and ate what was in front of me. It was the only time that I did not eat on my own.

When I was finished, the man asked me a question.

"Do you know what's in my case, son?"

I shook my head.

The giant smiled at me and put the case on the table. When he had opened the case, I could not hide my curiosity and asked him what it was.

"It's a violin," he said, "I've made it myself." He took it tenderly.

He looked around quickly and started to play an old folk song. I was sold.

When he was done playing, he paid the innkeeper and walked me to the gates of the manor while talking about music, his country and his little girl.

When we had arrived there, I picked the biggest rose I could find and gave it to the giant.

"For your daughter, sir," I said.

He gave me an affectionate pet on the head and thanked me. Before he turned around and walked away he told me to take care and gave me another pet.

I shook my head and returned to the present. While I started to repair the violin, my mind searched for a way to translate the falling of snow into music.

She loved winter. It would be cold by then and it was already on the cold side. She would need a scarf to protect her from it. Red would suit her.

That scarf became my first present to her.

**Soooooooooo… What are your thoughts my lovely readers. What do you think about Erik's encounter and Christine's memories? Please push the review button, you would make my day ;)**

**Love,**

**LoreLorelei**


	6. Chapter six

**I'm sorry that** **it took me so long. But, I have an excuse and I am making it up to you by posting this extra-long chapter. I hope you will enjoy it!**

Christine's POV

I had been looking at it for some time now. Looking.

It was Meg who shook me from my pensive stare by poking me… hard. I sent her an angry glare that did not appear to have the wished effect as she stared at me with an innocent expression on her face.

"What?!", she said, "It's not going to open itself, I am getting more curious by the second and you are not making any movement that suggests that you will be opening it anytime soon. And don't give me that look, you know I'm right. Come on…"

"You know that curiosity killed the cat, right?", I answered.

"Don't give me that talk, you sound just like my mother when you say that."

I pretended to shudder and mumbled "Heaven forbid", but made no move to open the package wrapped in brown paper and tied together by some strings.

"Come on! What could go wrong? It's not as if it's a dead animal", Meg begged.

"You know, it's usually when you say something like that when things go wrong", I said.

Meg pouted and used her last argument: "If you don't open it right now, I will."

She looked as if she meant it, so I carefully took it from my bed and checked it for weird. Then I started to unwrap it slowly, during which Meg encouraged me with a loud "Release me from this torment and just open the thing!".

I gasped when I saw the content of the package. In my hands was the most beautiful scarf I had seen in my entire life. It was of a vibrant red and incredibly soft.

"It's so beautiful!", Meg exclaimed and I could only agree with her statement.

"Can I touch it?", she asked and I nodded.

"My God! This has to be cashmere, I don't know anything else that is that soft. This must have cost a small fortune. Try it on, try it on!"

I winded it around my neck quickly and looked at Meg for her opinion, for which I did not need to wait very long.

"You look lovely!", she gushed.

I felt a blush creeping up on my face and I couldn't stop touching the soft fabric.

"Do you know who gave it to you?", Meg asked.

I shook my head. "I have absolutely no idea."

"Maybe it was one of Monsieur Dubois' sons! Oooh! Just imagine: me and Alain, you and one of them, they are best friends! Can you imagine it?!"

I didn't want to ruin her excitement, but I didn't agree with her.

"Meg, I couldn't have been one of them. We've never even met and they never come inside the house. You complained about that yourself just yesterday."

Meg frowned and sighed deeply.

"You're right. But then, who could it be? Maman would have asked me to bring it to your room if she had bought it, and it's too expensive. Clémaine would have given herself away by now, she was never good at keeping secrets. I didn't do it. Obviously, you didn't do it either. Only the master is left, but that would be completely ridiculous."

She stared at my scarf for a few more seconds and then squealed so loud that my ears hurt.

"Oh my God, Christine! It has to be a secret admirer! It's so romantic!"

By this time, she was bouncing up and down from utter happiness. Unable to keep myself in check, I joined her and couldn't help but start giggling.

After several minutes, we were lying on the floor, completely breathless.

Eventually, Meg stood up with a groan and pulled me up too.

"I think it's time that we went down for dinner or Clémaine will skin us and use it as a throw rug."

"Oh come on," I said, "you don't mean that. She is too kind to do such a thing."

"Have you ever seen her work with those knives? I swear, that woman was an assassin in her former live."

Meg made me shudder at the thought and we made our way down more quickly than ever before.

The fire was crackling and spread a warm light around us. Clémaine was bustling around and placed an enormous casserole on the table. It smelled delicious.

"For tonight: goulash soup. I hope you all have a good apatite, for you will certainly need one. Ah, Meg, Christine, come join us, mes petites chéries, venezi", she said.

Madame Giry was sitting at the head of the table, Clémaine on her left side, Meg and I on her right. It was Meg who first noticed the extra place setting.

"Who's eating with us tonight?", she asked as she sat down.

"Alain. Don't you remember, Jacques and his sons had to leave for the evening. The master gave them permission to visit their cousin Amélie. She has just given birth to a girl. Therefore, Alain had no one else to dine with", her mother explained.

Meg's face became incredibly red. He would be sitting in front of her and she seemed shaken by the thought.

Madame Giry then turned her attention towards me while Clémaine was filling our bowls to the brim with the thick soup and cutting the bread.

"Christine, are you ill?"

"No, I am not. Why do you ask Madame?", I asked confused. I had thought that I was starting to fill out nicely.

"You are wearing a scarf inside", she answered.

"Oh", I said a bit sheepish.

Meg had awakened from her thoughts and pounced on the opportunity.

"Christine has a secret admirer, but we don't know yet who it is, but I hope that we'll find out and don't you thing that it is incredibly romantic, it would be so…"

"Christine, could I see it for a second, please", Madame Giry interrupted her enthusiastic daughter.

I nodded, flushed with embarrassment, and handed it over to her.

As soon as she was able to see it up close, her eyes narrowed and murmured something unintelligible.

"Maman, do you know who might have given it to Christine?"

Madame Giry looked up surprised and answered "What? Oh, no I don't know who might have given it, but it certainly is very beautiful and of outstanding quality. Furthermore, the colour becomes you, Christine." After which she handed me back my scarf.

I took it and carefully folded it. Then I placed it behind me.

At that moment, Clémaine had had enough and started to mutter under her breath.

"Unpolite young man… never on time… getting cold… such a waste…"

Of course, that was the exact moment Alain chose to enter the kitchen. He received an absolutely terrifying glare from Clémaine (the skinning did not seem that improbable anymore), which he handled by apologising profusely. This apparently soothed her enough to give him a pet on the head and a bowl of goulash.

In the meantime, I used the opportunity to study him. He was Meg's love interest after all, and I decided that as her friend it was my job to do so. He was tall, but not overly so. He probably was about five inches taller than her. He had a friendly, open face, short dark hair, brown eyes and dimples.

I looked at Meg, but she had suddenly become very interested in her bowl. Her cheeks were flushed and she couldn't stop fidgeting.

"Hello Christine. My name is Alain. We have not met yet, but I was informed of your arrival. Do you like it here?", he said.

Had he not spoken my name, I would have never known he was talking to me. His eyes never left Meg and he looked a bit disappointed that she did not even glance his way.

I nodded anyway and thanked him for asking. While answering, I gave Meg a punch under the table and looked at her imploringly. She then looked up and greeted the newcomer in a soft, timid way that I had never expected.

He smiled radiantly at her and his eyes started to shine. It seemed to be enough encouragement for him and he started a lively conversation with her. Meg eventually forgot about her shyness and the rest of us ceased to exist for them.

Clémaine and Madame Giry exchanged some amused yet still approving glances. I actually felt very relieved that Madame Giry did not seem to object, after all, I had told Meg that she wouldn't mind.

The rest of the meal was uneventful. We had all complemented Clémaine on the wonderful food and it was then that I learned something new.

"Thank you my dears, you're too kind", she said, "The master loves it too you know, he always seems less grumpy when I bring him a bowl."

That piqued my interest, especially since I had not heard or seen anything of him.

"Does he always eats the same as we do?", I asked her.

"Why yes, he says that everything I make is fit for a prince. Not that he eats much, the good Lord knows. At least it's better now that HE's gone for the time being."

However, before I could ask her what she meant, Alain asked Meg if she wanted to go for a walk with him.

I have no idea how much effort it cost her not to squeal, but she managed. She looked at her mother with pleading eyes.

"Fine, but take Christine with you. And don't stay out to late! You will have to rise early tomorrow morning."

"Thank you!"

Meg and Alain rushed out quickly and I followed suit. It was only as the cold wind hit me that I realised that I had left my scarf inside. I asked the two lovebirds to wait a second for me and went back inside to fetch it. As I entered the room, I was greeted by the warm laughter of both Clémaine and Madame Giry.

Clémaine smiled and said "Ah, to be young and in love…"

This caused me to burst into laughter too. I took my scarf and went back outside after putting it on.

The wind was piercing cold, but the scarf was deliciously warm. I decided to walk behind Meg and Alain to give them some privacy. Unfortunately, it did not take long before my hand were freezing. I wanted to bury them inside my warm scarf, but first I stroked my cheek once more with the soft material. I smiled. I didn't know who gave it to me, but I was most certainly very grateful for the beautiful gift.

It was then that I saw something from the corner of my eyes. I saw the figure of a man behind one of the only lit windows of the house. It was impossible to see who it was, but he appeared to be very tall and extremely lean. It seemed as if his eyes glowed in the dark. They looked like the yellow eyes of a cat, or like a burning fire. As soon as I blinked though, he was gone.

_You are just imagining things. A man's eyes don't glow. You're just tired, it's been a long day…_

I shook my head and hurried to follow Meg and Alain, my cold hands buried in the scarf.

I slept well that night. My dreams were filled with the same exquisite music. I awoke to a beautiful day, with an overly active Meg.

That night, there was another package lying on my bed. It contained a pair of delicate, red gloves. They were made of the same material as the scarf. I smiled and pressed them to my chest. I had an idea who might have given them: the man in the window. But who he was, I had no idea.

**Who could have given her the presents?! Wait, I think we all know, don't we? ;)**

**So….. What do you think? I hope that you liked it. Please review this chapter, you would really make my day by doing so. Comments are always welcome.**

**With all my love,**

**LoreLorelei**

i …my little darlings, come


	7. Chapter seven

**I am back and I brought a chapter with me! Studying has been eating away all of my time, sorry for the wait. I hope you will enjoy.**

Erik's POV

I was leaning against the wall of my secret passageway, my breathing heavy. I felt a smile tugging at my mouth. I had been watching her trough the tiniest crack as she entered the room. I had planned to be far away from her at this point in time, but she had retired sooner than I had foreseen. I had just made it inside of my passageway, when I heard how she opened the door.

I had frozen. I had no longer been able to leave: the desire of seeing her reaction was too big. I positioned myself in front of the crack and took in her features. She was once more wearing my first present, the scarf. Together with Angélique's girl and the stablehand, she had gone for another walk this evening, as they seemed to have enjoyed it yesterday.

The time that it took before she opened my gift turned me into a nervous wreck. Would she like it? She had liked the scarf, hadn't she? Was I going too far? Of course not, it was my duty as the master of the house to look after my servants, was it not?

_Just keep telling that to yourself and maybe you'll start to believe it. You've never done anything like this for the others… and don't start about the ones who left, that was compensation for the harm _they had partly brought onto themselves.

I sighed.

The stream of my thoughts was interrupted by the sound of ripping paper. I looked through the crack and saw how she slowly revealed the insides of the package. Her mouth opened in awe and she took the gloves. She smiled heart-warmingly and pressed them to her chest.

I leaned back from the crack and released the breath I didn't know I had been holding. She liked it. I decided to leave before I could see anything that was even less meant for my eyes and returned to my library.

Once there I dropped myself unceremoniously in my back winged chair. The events of the previous night played through my mind. How she had gone outside with Meg and Alain and seemed to enjoy my first present so well. How her hands appeared to be cold. How she SAW me in the window.

I had not counted on such a thing occurring, had fled from my spot immediately and only dared to return to it after several minutes had passed.

I decided to do what I should have actually done today, instead of purchasing presents for innocent girls with cold hands. I looked at the letters on my desk with disdain. Most of them were business-related and could not be helped. I started with those to avoid having to open the ones from Him first as they would dispel any resolution of mine to read the others.

It was the usual thing: people asking for more time to pay their rent, quarrels between different families, the local church asking for a donation… After I had finished writing my answers and putting the aside, I took the first one of my brother's letters.

The first 2 ones were enough to make my blood boil, but it was the last one that almost had me shredding it to pieces.

_I wrote before that I need more money for my stay in Paris. If you do not have it delivered to me in two weeks' time, I shall be forced to return to the manor. You know I will._

He had squandered all the money I had supplied him with on expensive clothes, parties, presents for his conquests and his expensive women of the night. I could not deny him though. I had enough reason to want him out of my way on a normal day, but now… Christine. I could and would not let the past repeat itself, especially not now.

I was pulled out of my reverie by a rather loud knock on the door.

"What!", I snapped.

Angélique silently entered and closed the door behind her.

"I wanted to let you know that I'll be retiring for the night and I wanted to ask if there was something you needed."

I sighed and put my face in my hands, feeling guilty for lashing out at her even though I knew she would not take it personally.

"No thank you, Angélique."

"Did he send more demanding letters again?", she asked me.

"Yes, and you know why I can't refuse, especially not now. I can't allow it to happen again."

"I know, but you need to stop blaming yourself. Those girls brought it upon themselves. They were warned, several times, that he was not to be trusted and that his motives were not pure. They went against the advice that I gave them more than once and they all came crying afterwards", Giry's voice was filled with disappointment.

"You could have just send them away and no house would have taken them in, but you gave them enough money to live off for the rest of their lives. You made sure that they had a place to go to and spend as much money as necessary to try and restore their name. You did all that even though they only had themselves to blame for it!"

I stood up abruptly and slammed my fist on the table.

"That does not change the fact that they did not consent to what eventually happened to them! You know how they looked, Angélique! That image is one that will not leave my mind's eye for as long as I breathe. They BLED, Angélique! The cuts, the bruises, the wounds. Giving them money and a place to seek refuge was the least I could do. Do you know how it feels to have your only family act like a true monster and yet it is you who is called one? Do you have any idea how it feels?!", I yelled.

I trembled with anger and another emotion that I refused to acknowledge. After taking a few calming breaths, I lowered myself back into the chair.

"No, I don't", she answered, "I remember very well how they looked and I also remember how it felt to see every single one of them make the same mistake and failing to keep them from delivering themselves into the hands of a devil. Each and every one of them."

I was still trembling, my heart contracting in my chest. I needed to think of something better, something that could alleviate the pain. My hands were gripping the armholds of my chair tightly. The colour of the wood used for the structure made me think of the violin that I had bought. The violin that had belonged to the one man that had ever been friendly to me. I thought of the music I had recently written and how beautiful it was. I thought of the girl it was written for. I thought of how she had smiled when I had seen her outside and how happy she had seemed with her newest present.

The words left my mouth before I could stop them.

"How is she adapting?"

I looked up at Angélique and saw how her face changed into an almost amused expression.

"I should think that you would know that better than I do, after all, you see everything that goes on in the house", she said with a smirk.

I glared at her.

"She is doing fine. My Meg is happy to finally have a friend and it seems that Christine feels the same way. She looks a lot healthier than she did when she first arrived. Lately, she has also been very happy because of a little mysterious present she was given. You do not happen to know anything about that, now do you?"

I knew better than to try and lie to her, so I decided to simply tell her the truth.

"She would have been cold otherwise, Angélique. She likes the winter and it will be a cold one this year. I could not let her get sick, now could I? I am supposed to take care of the people who live in my house."

"What you say is true, but a master is not supposed to buy cashmere scarfs for his servants."

I did not like what she said, even though it was said soothingly.

I looked at my hands when I answered het statement, refusing to look her in the eye.

"She deserved something beautiful."

"Aye, that she does. Knowing you, I think it is safe to assume that it will soon be followed by other gifts, no?", Angélique confirmed.

I nodded my head.

"Erik, she is a good girl and I am sincerely happy for you, but please be careful. Raoul will eventually come back here, like he always does, and I don't want to see you get hurt by history repeating itself. I'm off to my room now. Have a good night."

I stared at the door for a long time after she left. Several minutes later, I started to write the letter to my _brother._ When that was finished, I left the comfort of my library.

The light of the moon illuminated my bedroom and I could see everything clearly. It was too late to play any music now and the conversation I had had, had made sure that any longing for doing so had vanished.

I took of my mask and relished the cold air that caressed my overheated face. As I prepared myself for bed, I could not help but replay one of the last sentences in my head.

_Raoul will eventually come back here, like he always does, and I don't want to see you get hurt by history repeating itself_…

It made my blood boil just to think of it.

But Christine was a good girl. She would be smarter than the others, wouldn't she? She would not let herself be tricked by fake promises and empty looks, right? Raoul would not be able to taint her. He would not hurt her, like he had the other girls. He would not hurt my Christine when he returned.

I would not let him

**So… What are your thoughts? They will be taken into account. I hope I made the wait worth it with this chapter.**

**Love,**

**LoreLorelei**


	8. Chapter eight

**I'm sorry I'm late. Let's just say that it has been a rough time for me. I dedicate this chapter and the next one to my great-grandmother, who has recently passed away, but who was always there for me. This chapter will be relatively short compared to the others, but the next one will follow shortly, since they actually were one chapter that was too long to post. I hope you will enjoy it.**

Christine's POV

"Do we really have to?"

"Yes, you know we do or your mother will have our head. I don't know about you, but I quite like it where it is."

I quirked an eyebrow at the groaning Meg and tried to hide the growing grin on my face.

"But it's so… so… ugh!"

"I know, that is why we need to clean this room. Have you slept very badly last night or could it be that the return of a certain family ruined your perfect week?"

She started sputtering and her cheeks became red.

"It's just… oh… you know. You are really going to make me say it aren't you? Oh, alright. Now that Monsieur Dubois and his sons have returned, Alain won't be eating with us anymore", she pouted.

I couldn't help myself and laughed.

"And you really think that will stop him from visiting you? One would not be able to keep him away, even if they tried to beat him with a stick."

"Really?"

"Really. Aren't you supposed to be the confident one of the two of us?"

"Oh, just shut up Christine. Let's clean this dustpalace", she said and stepped into the room.

I smirked and followed her into the room. We were cleaning the upper level of the house and its condition was even worse than the first room we had cleaned together. I put the buckets of water that I had been carrying down and looked at the surrounding mess.

I sighed, "The faster we start the faster we'll be able to leave this room."

Meg agreed with me and together we started to clean the chamber that had not been entered for more than 5 years. We took away the cloths, with which the sparse furniture was covered, and put them in the hall, very carefully so we wouldn't cause a dust cloud.

As soon as we had those out of our way, we put our hands to good use and got busy. I was dusting of an old discoloured mirror that towered above me. When the worst of the dirt was removed, I got a good look at myself and I realised that it had been quite a while since I had last looked into a mirror, really looked. I used this opportunity to do so, but my hands did not stop working.

I had filled out nicely. My cheeks were no longer sunken in, but round and blushing, my hair looked thick and healthy again, my arms were stronger and my waist was no longer too thin. Filled out nicely, indeed. Perhaps a tiny bit too much, but the memory of hunger was still rather fresh and I could not help but love my new figure. I looked like myself, before my papa had died.

That thought made me quite cheerful and I started smiling. I gave the mirror one last swipe and turned to the large wooden armoire that was standing in the nearby corner. Its carvings depicted swirling motives and fairy tale animals. In one of the corners of the wooden panel I saw the image of a troll. I touched it softly and sighed. It reminded me of home. I started humming the piece my father had always hummed for me when I was little, when he was looking for me when we played hide and seek. He had not done so anymore after my mother's passing. In my mind I saw Peer Gynt fleeing for the trolls, running for his life.

I frowned, it was a bit distressing actually, so I switched to a merrier folksong my father had played on his violin. It seemed as if the cleaning went a lot faster now and I was starting to enjoy myself, when suddenly…

"You never told me you could sing!", yelled a very active Meg in right ear.

I jumped and shakily breathed out.

"Why did you stop?"

I shot her a glare.

"Oh, I don't know. Could it possibly be because you almost gave a heart attack?"

She grinned in apology.

"You could also see it as payback for making me flustered earlier."

I couldn't help it, I was smiling again.

"Fine then. We should get back to work now, we're almost finished. We did it faster than I thought we would."

"That's because a certain someone did a certain something and this person is hoping that that someone will continue. Please? Could you sing the one about the shepherdess?"

I thought about it. I had not sung in months and while it felt almost wrong, it had also made me feel better. Meg's dark eyes pleaded.

"There are an awful lot of songs about shepherdesses. Could you be a bit more specific?"

Meg beamed at me.

"The one about the girl asking her mother what she should do about the most perfect shepherd who loves her!*"

"Romantic are we? Fine."

I started singing again. Tentatively at first, but louder after Meg's uhm… not so much in tune voice… joined me. She even went as far as to mimic the girl in the song and it did not take long before I doubled up with laughter.

"That would be enough to make the shepherd decide to make a run for it!", I gasped.

She smacked me on the head and sighed dramatically: "Some will never appreciate real talent."

I smirked.

"Seems as if we're done here. Want to go down for lunch? Clémaine has freshly baked bread."

"Sure", I answered.

Madame Giry came to find us in the afternoon and frowned when she saw us talking by the fire. We had been sitting there for about two hours. After lunch, we had helped a pleasantly surprised Clémaine with the dishes, since our work for the day was done. She had been telling me some French fairy tales in the hopes of convincing me to tell one of the dark ones my father had told me when I was small. They were quite dark and nothing like the ones a friendly lady, where I had been staying with my papa, had told me when my father had gone out to play and forbidden me to come. I had a cold and the lady had tried to cheer me up.

The tales Meg told me, were the same, but a lot more gruesome than the version I had been told back then. The girl who slept in the ashes was pecked by her mother in bird form until she bled, to make her dance more lively, the sisters had to cut off a toe and a heel and in the end the bird pecked out their eyes. The girl who slept for a hundred years woke up after giving birth to twins who sucked the splinter out of her hand…

I was fascinated. These were more like the tales I had been told in my youth and I enjoyed every second of them, but I refused to tell her any of the ones I knew. She insisted though.

I was saved by the arrival of Madame Giry, who looked very displeased.

"I thought I asked you to clean the de-la-forest-room?"

Meg appeared to have suddenly lost her tongue, so I shifted and cleared my throat awkwardly.

A pair of piercing eyes turned my way and I started fidgeting.

"We have already done so, we're finished for today", I answered.

"Meg?"

"It's true maman. We have worked very hard this morning."

Madame Giry's face relaxed and I did the same.

"Very well then. Christine dear, I'm afraid I'll have to ask you to help me with one of my tasks. It appears that Meg's and my help is needed at Monsieur Dubois' and a certain young man is convinced that only Meg and I are able to help them."

Meg flushed instantly, but I could see that she had a very hard time to keep from smiling like the lovesick girl she was.

I replied quickly.

"No problem, Madame. What would you like me to do?"

I regretted it almost immediately.

"Could you bring the Master his tea?"

"The Master?"

"Yes, child. Could you?"

I couldn't refuse, so I nodded my head and mentally cursed myself.

"Where can I find him, Madame?"

"He can usually be found in the library at this hour. He likes his tea black and very hot, no milk are sugar."

"Alright," I said.

**My dear readers, I hope you all enjoyed reading this new chapter. The next chapter will (finally) show Erik and Christine's (real) first meeting. As you know, I appreciate reviews a lot. **

**Until next time and with all my love,**

**LoreLorelei**

***Maman dites-moi**


	9. Chapter nine

**Hello dear readers! As promised, I now give you the second part of the last chapter, containing Erik and Christine's first interaction. I hope I did well and that you will like it. This chapter is once again dedicated to my great-grandmother.**

Christine's POV

I didn't move until Madame Giry and Meg had left. I then lowered myself into a chair near the fire and sighed. I was nervous. Not only would I meet the Comte, but I would also meet the man who was probably responsible for the beautiful gifts I had been given. Before this moment, I had not really thought about it, somehow it had not sunk in. The man in the window could not have been anyone else, though: the Comte was the only man in the house. How should I approach him? His station demanded distant respect, but I did not want to seem ungrateful. I could wait and see how he would react and act accordingly…

What would he look like? From what I had glimpsed from the window, I could deduct that he was very tall and thin, but the light behind him masked everything else. And his eyes… that could not have been true at all, they must have been a figment of my imagination. No man could possibly have such eyes.

After preparing the tea, I made my way to the library and knocked on the door, but no response came. I carefully opened the door and stepped inside. He was looking out of the window and had his back to me. I had been right: he was incredibly tall, probably over six foot, and extremely lean. His clothing, although well made, hung from his body, making him look even thinner.

"You're late," he spoke, without turning around.

I gasped. That voice! Even in his annoyance, it was the most beautiful voice I had heard in my entire life.

My silence must not have been the answer he was expecting, because he turned around, so swiftly that if I had blinked, I would have missed the movement altogether.

I think we both were surprised. He because I was not whom he expected and I… A black mask covered his whole face, masking his expression and giving him a sinister air. I could not see his eyes, all I saw were two black holes looking back at me.

"You…" he whispered.

He recovered quickly and righted himself, towering over me.

"Where is Madame Giry?"

I shifted nervously and looked at the serving plate in my hands. This was not going how I had expected.

"She went out with Meg. Their help was requested by Monsieur Dubois."

He remained silent, staring at me, until he suddenly sighed and motioned me to place the tea on his desk. I complied relieved, and after setting it down started to inch closer to the door.

"Won't you sit with me for a while, Mademoiselle? Or do you have other duties waiting?"

I shook my head.

After pulling my chair back, he sat himself in front of me, the desk like a wall between us.

"Would you like some tea, Mademoiselle?"

"No thank you, I'm afraid that I am not too fond it."

He nodded and I could feel how his invisible eyes roamed over me. Suddenly, he broke the contact and poured himself a cup of tea.

"How long have you been here now, Mademoiselle?"

"Several weeks now, Monsieur le Comte."

I wondered where he was taking this conversation. This whole encounter seemed to familiar, not enough distance between us, making me uncomfortable. It did not appear as though he had ulterior motives and yet I had never felt more nervous in my entire life. Not even when my papa asked me to sing for a public.

The Comte resumed his staring at me and I started to fidget, realising that he would not be able to drink with his mask on. Why did he not take it off? Why was he wearing it at all? To avoid staring at his mask, I took in the library. It was beautiful, the bookcases made out of a dark wood, giving the room a warm feeling. However, it was the magnificent wing piano that captured my attention. I had never seen such a fine instrument in my entire life.

The Comte had followed my gaze curiously.

"Do you play, Mademoiselle?"

"Oh no, Monsieur! I never learned how to, but I can see how beautifully made it is."

I could not read his expression easily because of the mask, but he seemed almost… proud?

"You must at least have some experience."

"My father was a musician Monsieur, he taught me how to read music and…", I stopped, it felt like that information was too personal, to share with him.

"Et quoi, Mademoiselle?"

He stared at me intently and I swallowed. It was as if those black holes looked right through me and I felt incapable of keeping anything secret from them.

"Sing, Monsieur. He taught me how to sing."

He sat up straighter than he already did, something I would have thought was impossible.

"Ah, donc vous êtes une cantatrice?", he asked.

« Non, Monsieur. Seulement une chanteuse. My father never completed my education and it was impossible for me to go to une conservatoire. My only experience was accompanying him when he played at a fair."

"Would you like to learn how to sing properly, Mademoiselle?"

What should I say? I couldn't tell him that it had been my papa's and my dream for years, that he had told me that one of my mother's little angels had given me my voice… I wanted to learn, but to learn from this man would not be proper. I did not know him, he was a rich, single man above my station who hid his face behind a mask.

"I… I don't know, Monsieur."

My answer did not seem to faze him the least. Yet he surprised me by suddenly standing and walking to the instrument. Beckoning me to follow him. I obeyed him and went to stand next to the piano. He sat down smoothly and turned to me.

"Allow me to persuade you, Mademoiselle," the Comte said.

And he played.

That music! That music that soared and scorched my soul, only to heal it with a heavenly caress afterwards. He had no score, it was as if he invented to gorgeous melody while he played. His hands danced on the keys. Despite their almost skeletal quality, I could only admire the elegance and fluidity with which they called forth that beautiful music.

Oh, how I wished my papa could have heard this! Not even he could put this much emotion in his music. In my eyes he had always been a musical genius, but he paled in comparison to this masked man. How honoured he would have felt to meet such a virtuoso!

I almost cried when he stopped playing. It felt as if I had been given a piece of haven, only for it to be ripped away from me moments later.

"Well then, Mademoiselle, will you let me teach you?"

I could only nod, all my defences had melted away at hearing him play. I could no longer deny him. No matter what consequences this could have in the future, I could only accept his offer.

He stood and walked back to his desk, opened a drawer and some papers out of it. I followed him, and when he turned to hand them to me, the light coming in through the large window fell directly on his mask. I could see his eyes. I had never seen such pale eyes in my entire life, yet they held a yellowish quality. And they were piercing, making it impossible for me to look away.

"Learn this song by next week. I shall give you this long only for once, since it is the first time you shall have to learn one by yourself. It is fairly simple and should suite your voice. Eventually we shall practice more complicated music, but this will do nicely for our first lesson. What do you say, Mademoiselle?"

I glanced down at the score in my hands. "Tre giorni son che Nina" of Pergolesi. I had never heard of it before, but it seemed simple enough.

"I shall learn it by next week, Monsieur", I answered.

"Then I will meet you here next week at three pm. Do not be late, Mademoiselle. During our lessons you may address me as maestro. You are dismissed for today."

I curtsied and went to fetch the tray, but he stopped me with a motion of his hand.

"Leave it, Mademoiselle. I shall take care of it."

I could only nod and turned to leave the room and its strange occupier. His voice stopped me, when I was about to walk through the door.

"Mademoiselle?"

I turned.

"Yes, Monsieur?"

He shifted, almost seeming nervous.

"How did you like my gifts, Mademoiselle?"

My eyes widened, I had not expected this question, but I decided to answer truthfully.

"They were very beautiful, Monsieur", I answered.

I could not see his face, yet I had the impression that if I could, I would have seen him smile.

"Thank you, Mademoiselle. You may leave now. Enjoy your evening."

I curtsied again, walked through the door and closed it behind me.

I then practically ran to my room and sat down on my bed. What an afternoon! Nothing went like I expected and instead of learning more about the master of the mansion, he had only become more mysterious than before. I truly did not know what to think of him.

Everything in his appearance screamed at me not to touch him, from his pale eyes to the black mask he wore. His general strangeness unsettled me, but his voice and the music he created destroyed all my defences. How could I not put my trust into someone with such musical genius?

But what could bring a wealthy man of high station to hide his face from the world? It could not be a fashion statement: there was no one in this house but me and the other servants. There had to be another reason, but what?

Suddenly I thought of my father and how he had come home one day, when I had not been able to accompany him, and told me of a boy he had met. The boy had been disfigured, he said. He had even given my papa a rose for me. I remembered that I had tried to dry it, but I had not succeeded and it had become mouldy.

Perhaps the comte also had a disfigurement? It would explain his need for the mask, though it seemed cruel that he would feel forced to wear one in his own house. How had he been treated in the past to make him feel that wearing it constantly was nessecary? Meg had told me that he had not had a happy childhood. Had his parents forced him to wear the mask? Could they really have treated their son so cruelly? It appeared to be true…

My thoughts were interrupted by a knock on my door. It was opened by Madame Giry before I was able to say anything. She was carrying a tray with food and my stomach grumbled. Had I been late for dinner? Had I been thinking for so long?

She placed the tray on the small table in the corner of the room and turned to me.

"I told Meg you had gone to bed early tonight. I thought you might need some time to get your thoughts straight. Is there anything you want to ask me child? But I must warn that there are certain questions I cannot and will not answer."

I guessed that that included everything involving the mask.

"Did you know?", I asked.

"Know what, Christine?"

"That he would offer me lessons."

"I suspected, but know? No."

I decided to ask the question that plagued me the most.

"Did I do well in accepting his offer? Or should I decline it when I see him next week?"

"You did well child."

I nodded, assured now that I had her permission, and thanked her for bringing me dinner.

She inclined her head and went to leave my room. Before she left the room I caught her whisper: "Better than you know, my child."

I frowned, confused, but decided not to break my head over it. I had had enough to analyse and think about for one night. After attacking my food, I prepared for bed. Sleep came surprisingly easy that night.

In my dream I was once again joined by my father, but it was not he who played. A masked man played for us and my papa wondered how he was able to create music that made us think of fallingsnowflakes.

**Well then my loyal readers, what did you think? Did I handle their first meeting well? Please let me know what thought of it. Thank you very much and until next time!**

**With all my love,**

**LoreLorelei**


	10. Chapter ten

**My dear readers, I have returned to you and bring a new chapter. Before I start, I noticed that there were a few things that I did not explain in the last chapter, namely the difference between "cantatrice" and "chanteuse". A cantatrice is a professional singer who usually sings classical music, while a "chanteuse" can be everyone, even someone who sounds more like a dying whale at a karaoke. **

**Furthermore, I would like to thank Leona and Sg-pix (and all of my other sweet reviewers) for their kind review. I am very happy that you like my story! I will do my very best not to disappoint you. This chapter is especially for you!**

**To Kirsi: I know that my Raoul is OOC when you compare him to Leroux's original novel, but so are Madame Giry and little Meg. The situation in which Raoul and Erik grew up is also different in my version. This is the twist I decided to give to it, no matter how cliché it might be. I tried to imagine how the story would have gone, if so many factors had changed. I do hope that you will still enjoy reading the rest of my story, though, and I am very pleased that you took the time to review.**

**But now: let's get on with the story!**

Erik's POV

I was sitting at my piano, when I my thinking was interrupted by a tentative knock on the door. I could feel the perspiration beneath my mask, but I had no time left to take it off and wipe my face. Oh god, she was there! It felt as if I had been waiting for an eternity for her arrival.

_Nervous are we? If only you could see yourself like this…_

I straightened my back and answered seemingly calmly:

"Come in."

I heard the door open behind me and turned to greet Christine, only to be greeted by Angélique. Scowling, I turned back to the opened score before me.

"Oh, it's you."

"Yes, it's me. Expecting someone else?"

I could just sense the smirk on her face!

"What do you want?" The sooner she left, the sooner I would be able to have my lesson with Christine. What was taking her so long!

"Nothing out of the ordinary. I wanted to ask you when you would like to take your tea, since she will be here at your usual hour."

"I'll take it afterwards. Bring her some too then. Was that all?"

She straitened her black dress and chuckled.

"My, my we are grumpy today. Now tell me, how long have you been sitting there like this, waiting?"

I crossed my arms and stared stubbornly at the piano keys in front of me. Why wouldn't she just leave? Did she live for wheedling the truth out of me? Apparently she did, for she seemed to refuse leaving me in peace before I told her what she wanted to know.

"Since this morning."

"This morning? Did you not arrange to meet her at about three o'clock?", she sounded incredulous.

"Yes, this morning! And yes, I told her to meet me then, but that does not mean that she could not have arrived early", I growled. I was starting to feel very annoyed now.

"More than five hours early?"

I glared.

She held her hands up in an apologetic gesture and smiled softly. I sighed. I could never stay angry for long with her. She had been there for me when I needed her most.

"I know you are right, but…"

Somebody had knocked on the door! I practically jumped from the piano bench.

"She's here!"

Angelique raised her brow.

"I absolutely did not notice that. Now sit down, I'll open the door, time I take my leave anyway."

I sat back down, righted the score in front of me for about the twentieth time and composed myself. I only turned after I heard the closing of the door. Christine was standing at the door, looking nervous and fidgeting with the long sleeves of her light brown dress. And suddenly, I felt completely at ease.

"Come over here, Mademoiselle. How has your day been this far? The weather has been quite nice, has it not?"

She shuffled closer, blushing furiously, shoulders slumped. _We will have to work on that…_

"Good, Monsieur le Comte. I was not expecting such a beautiful day again before spring."

I nodded and motioned for her to take place at the curve of the piano.

"Very well. Have you been practicing your voice exercises?"

The answer to this question was very important. If she had not, she lacked the persistence she would need for our future lessons. Every instrument needs to be maintained. I felt relieved when she nodded vigorously.

"Then let us begin. When we are alone between these walls, you will address me as maestro. Now, repeat after me "freundlich, fraulich, fröhlich".

I cringed, when she did so.

"No! Stand up straight, one foot slightly in front of the other. Not like that, now you look like a soldier waiting for orders. Relax, but stand straight. Yes exactly like that! Now stay that way."

She looked at me with wide eyes as if I had suddenly turned into Cerberus, ready to bite her head off.

"Your pitch was almost perfect, but we will need to work on your German pronunciation for quite a while. Do you know what you are singing, Mademoiselle?"

"No, Maestro", she answered, looking at the ground again.

"Posture, Mademoiselle."

She straightened suddenly, a puppeteer pulling on invisible strings.

"You are singing "friendly, womanly, gay". Keep the meaning in mind, you looked like were playng a part in a Greek tragedy. No, don't smile, you will distort your vowels, just feel the difference. Again!"

She was looking confused, but I left her no time to question my order and made her repeat the exercise until I was pleased with her progress.

"Better. Did you hear the difference yourself? Your voice sounded a lot warmer now, than the first time. We will keep working on the pronunciation. You will have to able to sing in more languages than French. Some of the best arias and songs have been written in German, Italian or English. We will now proceed with your aria."

About an hour and what felt like countless orders later, I ended our first lesson and led her to my desk, where I pulled her chair out before I proceeded to my side. Almost immediately after we sat down, Angélique knocked on the door and entered with the tea tray. She placed it between us and hurried out without saying a word. Subtle…

Christine had followed her with her eyes and started to fidget again, after her departure. She seemed almost reluctant to look my way. The silence became oppressing and I searched for something to say. My eye landed on the tray.

"How would you like your tea, Mademoiselle?"

Her eyes flickered upwards, then went down again just as fast.

"Just some sugar please."

I frowned behind my mask. As far as I had noticed, she was very fond of milk. I once saw her drink several cups in the morning, when I passed by the kitchen on my way to the stables.

"No milk or cream?", I blurted out.

"No thank you, Monsieur."

Who was I to tell her how to drink her tea. I poured her a cup, added a spoon of sugar and placed it in front of her. She was looking at her lap again.

For our next lesson, you will practice Pergolesi again. Remember to stand correct, to open your mouth wide enough at the a's and to practice your pronunciation. Also try to put some emotion in the song, technique without emotion is not music."

She was looking at me with wide eyes. Had I said something strange? I did not believe so.

"Next lesson?", she asked, barely loud enough to hear.

"Yes, I believe you should be free on Thursday, if I am not mistaken. We will have to practice more often if you want to continue to improve", I answered. Did she lack the perseverance after all?

"But I thought I was horrible." She was looking at me now with her big blue eyes, confused.

Had I been drinking my tea, I would have probably choked on it.

"Why would you think that?" I didn't understand, she had already improved in this one lesson. She had become more conscious of her posture and minded her pronunciation. Now she was looking down, again, and fidgeted.

"You… well… uhm…"

I sighed.

"Yes, Mademoiselle?" _Just tell me what is wrong, I cannot help if I do not know it._

"Well, you did not seem too pleased with me during the lesson, Monsieur."

What was that supposed to mean? I did not seem pleased? What had I done wrong? I had only been… Ah.

"Mademoiselle, would you please look at me?"

Her gaze met mine.

"My being strict during the lesson does not mean that you are doing badly, I simply want to prevent you developing any disadvantageous habits. You will have to get used to it, I am afraid."

She looked a bit relieved and a rosy hue had spread over her cheeks.

"So, I did not mess up?"

Beneath my mask, a smile was tugging at the corner of my lips.

"No Mademoiselle, you did not", I answered truthfully.

And she smiled. A genuine smile!

She took her cup and sipped from it, then gently placed it back on the saucer. I had never before noticed just how small her wrists were. The looked almost breakable. I averted my gaze as she spoke again.

"Maestro, could you tell me what the song is about?", she sipped her tea again.

I would need to work on her understanding of foreign languages, but now was not the time.

"A man's beloved has not woken up for three days and he is slowly getting desperate. In the song he bags her to wake up and return to him."

She looked at the now empty cup in front of her.

I took my pocket watch from my pocket and checked the time. I sighed.

"You should go now, Mademoiselle, supper will be ready soon. I expect you at our next lesson on Thursday."

She quickly rose from her chair as I did the same and walked to the door. Before it closed behind her, she curtsied and said: "Until then, Monsieur."

After her departure, I locked the door and took of my mask. The skin of my face needed a chance to breathe before Clémaine would arrive with supper. I sat back down and looked at the now cold cup of tea I had been unable to drink from. It seemed like I would need to get used to that. But I would see her again on Thursday. I sipped from my cup and grimaced.

**Thank you so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed it! Did I do well?**

**All my love,**

**LoreLorelei**


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